In the end you will find clues to it all
by emeraldpriestess
Summary: A visit to moments of Myka's life when she pretended. And others when she didn't. Myka/H.G.


IN THE END YOU WILL FIND CLUES TO IT ALL

xXx

"_Face this world. Learn its ways, watch it, be careful of too hasty guesses at its meaning. In the end you will find clues to it all._"

~ H. G. Wells, The Time Machine

xXx

**Denver, Colorado, 2006.**

Myka Bering is good at pretending. Maybe it comes from growing up among thousands of descriptions of feelings in a bookstore, maybe it's because her work at the Secret Service is so _real _that pretending is a way of protecting herself. Whatever the reason, she has come very close to perfecting the art of showing only what she wants to show, telling other people exactly what they want to hear, and making them believe they know her. Even Myka's closest friends know only the polished version of her. She likes it that way.

xXx

**Baltimore, Maryland, 2013.**

"Wait up!"

Helena always seems to walk faster than her nowadays – and that's really fast – without effort. When they first met, it was the other way around and Myka can't for the world figure out when and how it changed. It annoys her somewhat. Not that she usually stays annoyed at H. G. for very long…

They are on a fairly normal mission, for the Warehouse that is, and just got a very promising lead that made Helena's eyes sparkle distractingly before she rushed away. For a second Myka pretends it weren't those eyes that made her pause before rushing after the other woman. Helena is just very fast, that's all. But then she shakes her head and smiles. She certainly can't fool anyone, least of all herself.

When she catches up with Helena, they are already outside the old antique shop that may contain the book-destroying artefact they are hunting. H. G. takes one glance at Myka and then smiles playfully, no – wickedly –, like only she does.

"Were we distracted there for a moment?" She asks, eyes still sparkling but now with amusement.

Myka smiles while trying hard not to, which makes for a rather pained grimace. With effort, she takes back control over her facial expression before answering casually,

"No we weren't. _We _were merely taken by surprise by _Your_ sudden departure."

Helena is unfazed. Of course she is. She keeps smiling as if she knows exactly what goes on in Myka's head, and without looking around to see if anyone is watching, heck, without seemingly considering it at all before it happens, she grabs Myka possessively by the waist and kisses her forcefully on the mouth.

Before pulling away, she whispers, "You are also very distracting, darling."

xXx

**Denver, Colorado, 2007**

"Sam…it's too late, we don't have time…"

He keeps kissing her while strong hands caress her sides, as if work is of no concern. She allows herself to enjoy the kisses for a few more seconds, then glances nervously at the clock before forcing their shared, hot breath to fuel her voice into a more insistent tone,

"No, really, I don't know about you but I _have_ to go."

He pulls back with an innocent look on his face that contrasts sharply with the hands currently residing on Myka's buttocks.

"Really?"

"_Really_."

"Fine."

He almost pouts. Then his eyes light up with a mischievous glint. He's such a boy. "But I'll only let you go if you kiss me one more time and tell me you love me!"

Myka rolls her eyes and smiles a little; the perfect display of indulgence. She knows the expression conveys that his antics are amusing, cute even. That she approves of them. She doesn't really, but it's easier like this. She pretends in order to get what she wants – walking through the door to start her day. He smiles into her kiss and tells her she's a good girl and it sounds so condescending, yet she's supposed to like it, just as she likes, loves, him. She does love him. But she still pretends and he doesn't know. Myka doubts she'll ever show him everything.

xXx

**Univille, South Dakota, 2010.**

"Marshmallows?"

"Bless you."

Myka bites her lip to stop the laughter bubbling up. "No, I mean do you want marshmallows in your hot cocoa? It's small…fluffy things. Sugary. Look, here."

Myka holds up the bag of mini-marshmallows for Helena to see.

"Oh. Are you having them?"

"Yes. But don't tell Pete."

Helena doesn't understand the Pete comment, but smiles and agrees to try the sponge-like thing. She takes up a piece, holds it at arms length between her forefinger and thumb and looks at it suspiciously.

"What is this made of?"

"Mostly sugar, I guess…and air…umm…"

She looks at the contents.

"Corn syrup…gelatin…"

Myka wishes she hadn't read the contents, but then Helena pops the marshmallow into her mouth and chews on it experimentally and Myka has trouble focusing on anything else than fingers, lips, and the thoughtful expression on the inventor's face…

"Well, that certainly was tolerable. Like eating a fluffy sugar cube, really. I'll take some with my cocoa, please."

Smiling at Helena's concise analysis, Myka puts a generous amount of the candy in each of their cups and proceeds to prepare a plate of biscuits to go with it. Carrying it all to the library, she silently takes note of the normalcy of this moment. It's such a rare thing in their lives to be home, and to be relaxed. To be…them. Myka isn't entirely sure what _them_means yet, but it doesn't matter. She's here, they both are, and they will soon be engrossed in old, dusty volumes while the fire casts a soft glow on their faces and the chocolate and presence of a friend make everything warm.

xXx

**Denver, Colorado, 2008.**

She was late. Myka is never late and yet she must have been, because the timing was off and they were all in the wrong place. A gun went off and Sam…Sam is dead.

Everything is wrong and she can't even pretend to be fine because her chest hurts as if a million bullets have pierced it. All she wants to do is scream in pain and chase after the murderer to stop his heart like he stopped Sam's.

Later, when she has calmed down enough to notice which of her superiors are in the debriefing room with her and that her hands are shaking, her logical mind acknowledges that the thirst for revenge is a natural instinct that needs to be supressed. She wouldn't actually kill the murderer if she found him. Or would she?

When all the paperwork and surprisingly sensitive questions finally come to an end, she goes home to emptiness, a bottle of wine, and a documentary about tropical beetles. She has no intention of calling anyone, or thinking, or feeling at all. But of course her mother picks this time to make her weekly call, and when Myka hears her voice something breaks. For the first time, she answers the question of how she is with "not good".

xXx

**Badlands, South Dakota, 2011.**

When Myka has imagined, and she has, the moment she'd be close enough to Helena to feel her heartbeat, it has never included being slowly robbed of her air supply. She absentmindedly notices, though, that her physical response to their proximity seems to care less about the lack of oxygen. Helena's body is warm against her own, and the other woman's breath against her neck _does things_ to her entire body. Trying not to struggle against the rope proves to be extremely hard, not least because she can't stop the impulse to subtly move further away from (or would that be closer to?) Helena.

But then Artie saves them by neutralising the rope, and before there's time to reflect on what just happened, they are chasing an artefact bomb that threatens to destroy everything. Had there been time to feel, Myka would have been left with a vague sensation of loss.

xXx

**Washington D.C., 2009.**

Myka loves going to work in the morning. She works extra hours every day, even when there are no immediate tasks to perform. In those days, she runs through strategies, perfects her colour coding schemes, and organises files in the archive. Her colleagues regard her with a mix between amusement and respect. No one asks about her personal life. She goes on holiday and takes the weekends off only when she has to, usually spending the time reading books at home.

Myka Bering is happy. She has the life she always wanted.

The only imperfection is the dark moments when the bullets are back, and she _aches_. In those moments, she tries hard to think of Sam as a distraction, someone who prevented her from becoming all she could be. She knows it's harsh and that denial of what they had probably isn't the best way of dealing with his death, but it's her way and it works. Sort of. When she succeeds and is happy again, her stock of Twizzlers has always been reduced considerably.

She is in control. People rely on her.

She knows what she wants.

Until her world is turned upside down.

She has to fight hard to pretend not to be impressed and intrigued by the Warehouse (her annoyance with Pete, however, comes from the heart) – so hard that she eventually gives up trying.

And bit-by-bit, she finds a home among strangers in a place where nothing and everything happens.

Perhaps she is okay with that.

xXx

**London, England, 2010.**

Pete is eating. Again. It's his third lunch today, a "compensation for jetlag", as he puts it. Myka takes a sip of cappuccino and rolls her eyes. If it weren't for the good mood she's in due to the prospect of meeting _the_ H. G. Wells, dangerous or not, she'd probably have punched Pete for good measure. For some reason, Myka rarely pretends with him. The unexpected transfer brought them close together, quickly, and Myka admits to herself that he's the best partner she's ever had. She'd never tell him, though.

A few hours later, Myka stares at H. G. Wells in disbelief – H. G. Wells who is a woman. To say she's surprised is an understatement; Myka feels almost...betrayed. But also intrigued and filled with a thousand questions that will all have to wait because the author in question has taken possession of Pete's tesla.

As if this is not enough, when it turns out that H. G. was a Warehouse agent and also responsible for them using teslas in the first place, Myka _really_ needs time to process things. But she doesn't get very far with that before a very real fictional element glues her and Pete to the ceiling, and H. G. explains that the male Wells is her brother Charles.

She finally leaves the room wearing the odd-looking vest, and Myka tries unsuccessfully to wrap her head around what just happened.

H. G. Wells is a very female, very attractive, and very dangerous 144 year-old.

xXx

**Badlands, South Dakota, 2011.**

_She is sacrificing herself for us_.

Myka thought she'd never experience something as painful as losing Sam on the job. But standing encased in a bubble-shaped force field while Helena watches her from outside, tinted blue and slightly distorted, is just as excruciating. Perhaps even more so, because she is forced to watch.

And it's so perfectly awful, so fittingly terrifying that she can't breathe. Myka locks eyes with Helena, who mouths "thank you", as if everything is as it should be. Myka knows her words are about everything that has been and is between them, but in this moment she can't help wondering if Helena has waited for and wanted a moment like this.

And then Helena smells apples, and Myka realises that is the smell she's always associated with the Warehouse. She won't understand the significance until much later.

Myka has always known that this is who Helena is deep down. Noble and unselfish, perhaps too much so. That's her last thought, before violent flames engulf their small safe haven like a thunderstorm, consuming the artefacts and reducing the Warehouse to ashes.

Reducing _Helena_ to ashes.

This is not how it was supposed to be.

xXx

**Colorado Springs, Colorado, 1990.**

"When I grow up I want to be a pop star like Madonna." Tracy twirls around in front of the mirror in her silver dress, while the jumping rope-microphone lies waiting for the next song to start on the radio.

"What do you want to be?"

Myka looks up from the book she's reading. "I don't know yet. Maybe an astronaut. I know I'm going to university. Dad says that's how you become something." As an afterthought, she adds, "And they have really big libraries at universities."

Tracy frowns, unconvinced. "Astronauts aren't famous."

Raising her chin defiantly, Myka says, "I will be."

xXx

**Univille, South Dakota, 2012.**

"Helena…"

Myka's voice breaks half through the name. Helena sits on the very edge of the bed, staring at her hands in wonder. She opens and clenches them, finally letting a small smile escape her lips.

"I'm really here again."

Myka feels her eyes fill with tears.

"Yes. Yes you are."

Running a hand along her own arm as if making sure it's really there, Helena says,

"From now on, I will always appreciate this body."

She says it with humour, but Myka can sense the truth behind the words. Helena is genuinely grateful for this second (third?) chance at life. So Myka bites back the teasing retort about how she doubts it's possible not to appreciate that body, because it's not about that, not now.

It's time for something else. Myka takes a deep breath and feels some of the tension in her shoulders disappear as she exhales with the words,

"I'm so glad you're here. In one piece. I thought…I was afraid…they'd take you away again." She draws in another shaky breath and goes on, "And thank you…for saving me in Hong Kong."

Helena smiles sadly.

"I think you saved yourself. I panicked there for a moment. I couldn't…fathom that you might die. I couldn't think. You brought me back to focus. _You_ saved _me_, again."

"Helena, I love you."

Myka hasn't planned to say it like this, almost interrupting the other woman, but it slips out, in a rush and completely honest in a way Myka usually isn't. She has wanted to say it since Mrs Frederic took Helena's mind to the bookstore. But Myka was hurting then, and it would have been said as an accusation, a questioning of Helena's love if it existed.

It was never the right time, but she has somehow made this the time, right or not.

Helena stares at her with surprise that slowly transforms into a soft smile, "I love you too, Myka."

But in the gaze that follows there's a question that Myka immediately answers.

"Yes. I want everything. If you want me."

Helena chuckles.

"If I want you? I don't want anyone else, darling."

And Myka smiles and realises she hasn't pretended once during this conversation, and when they finally kiss it's more like coming home to something she thought was long lost than a new experience. As one of Helena's hands comes to rest on her cheek and the other on her lower back, she doubts there will ever come a day when she will go back to pretending with this woman.

Helena always knows anyway.


End file.
